"Not her!" Akane exclaimed in exasperation. "The other one!
The one who just won't stop! I've told her time and time again to fight me for
real, but does she? No! Never!"

Ranma's face adopted a frown. "You know I don't like it when you call
Ucchan names, 'Kane. I mean, she's just, err, lonely, and, well… enthusiastic."
He nodded uncertainly, more to himself than for her benefit. "Umm, right."

"Are you being that blockheaded on purpose, Ranma? Is that it?"
Akane asked, shaking her fist at him angrily. "Are you just ganging up
on me with that Chinese bimbo?"

"Shampoo! SHAMPOO!!!" she shouted loudly, her voice reverberating
through the street. "Get it now?!"

"But Akane, you and Shampoo had fought before. And I think
you both fought for real—" Ranma noticed the battle aura surrounding his
fiancée, and wisely added, "—but since I wasn't there, I can't tell for
sure, of course."

She grunted in reply.

"Anyway, what do you want to fight Shampoo for?" he wondered
out loud, an expression of genuine puzzlement on his face. "She's not even
a bimbo. I mean, she's just… lonely, and… well…." He sighed. "I'm
beginning to see a pattern here. Do you, Akane?"

That moment Akane's battle aura exploded full force around her, and Ranma
stumbled back. He waved both hands above his head in surrender as he crouched,
clenching his eyes shut out of hope of replicating the legendary Ostrich Burying
Its Head In The Sand technique, known around the world as the ultimate defense
against one's enemies. When the blow he had been expecting never came, he cracked
an eye open and chanced a glance at his fiancée… and almost fell over.

Akane was kneeling in front of him, her head bowed so low it was almost
touching the pavement. "Please train me, so I can defeat Shampoo in honorable
combat," she begged formally, not looking up at him.

"Umm," he said intelligently, blinking. "Err, sure, I guess."

Lighting flashed in the background, an ominous thunder following it reverberating
across the sky.

"My darling Shampoo!" Not waiting for the love of his life to
respond, he launched himself into the air gracefully, zooming on her lithe form
through the blurs that constituted his vision. She replied as expected, by trying
to violently push him off after a moment of shocked immobility. Ahh, his pretty
flower was so feisty! Just the way he liked it….

Actually, Mousse pondered a moment later, when the initial euphoria wore
off, there was something different this time. His beloved was jumping from one
leg to the other, yelling 'Get it off!' at the top of her lungs. Normally, he
would experience the blessed pain by now, as she would launch him into the sky
with a well-placed kick between his legs… ah, his darling knew his most erogenous
spot well….

And then, he sensed a disturbance in the Force. The Force was how he got
by, since he was too blind to actually see, and haven't bothered developing
his other sense to compensate for that. Besides, that was for wusses. He was
a True Amazon, and as such, had to follow the True Amazon Way. Which meant he
had to use the Force to sense things all around him.

It still didn't explain why Shampoo's body so often changed from lithe
to chubby, and sometimes seemed dead — not that it would have been a problem
— but Mousse took the unexplainable with the good. Besides, as long as he got
his moment of bliss, sending blood rushing to his most erogenous spot, he didn't
really care. Mousse doubted anyone could blame him.

But back to the disturbance he felt. Mousse suddenly noticed that he was
not alone. And that didn't mean he had suddenly noticed he was clinging to Shampoo,
because that was obvious. What else would he be doing at his free time? No,
this sensation told him that a foreign object of great evil and perversion rapidly
approached him. It also told him said object was male.

Mousse didn't really care to know how the Force knew the gender of the
new arrival, but standing in the path of male perversion was not really his
thing. It was for the MANLY Amazons, who had split away from the main group
to start their own True Amazon Way. They were scary, and Mousse didn't like
that. He was all for pain, but he had to draw the line some place. No, that
sacred place was reserved for his darling Shampoo.

Coming to a decision, Mousse reluctantly let go of his beloved's breasts,
a mere moment before the being he had sensed latched onto the exact same
place with a cry of, "Hotcha!"

Mousse was confused. He had heard the battlecry of the tiny being —
unless his eyes were playing tricks on him again, and it was actually quite
large — and it hadn't sounded like what he could remember from the time
he had accidentally walked into a battle between the members of the manly
Amazon Way. At least, he thought it was a battle. There were plenty of sounds
of flesh striking flesh, and the grunts one would make when he is hurt, not
to mention the techniques sounded dangerous.

Yes, back to the techniques. This being's battlecry wasn't repetitive like
the 'Thrust! Thrust! Thrust!' attack which, he assumed, would be performed with
a bokken or some other kind of stiff weapon. It was also didn't seem to be as
long as the 'Deep Penetration and Jerk' technique he remembered hearing, right
before an extremely high shriek of pain. And lastly, it wasn't even remotely
close to the 'Backdoor Shove' battlecry he had heard once, and only once. It
had to be quite deadly, Mousse thought.

And then, the embodiment of evil and perversion landed on his head. Mousse
blinked, and instinctively moved his hands to cover his backside, not even sure
why.

"Thank you, m'boy!" the blurry creature exclaimed happily in greeting.
"I've been trying to get sweet Natsume's bra for months, but she's
always been on her guard." He absent-mindedly rubbed the area between
his legs, making Mousse break into a cold sweat. "I can see why she
was so adamant about protecting it, since it's so plain." He sniffed
it, and his spirits immediately seemed to skyrocket, if the surge in lecherous
feedback the Force was giving to Mousse was any indication. "But
now, I finally have this treasure, and I have you to thank for
it!"

Mousse shook his head, partly out of an attempt to dislodge his uninvited
guest. "You don't have to thank me," the boy insisted. "Really!"

"Oh, but I do!"

Mousse saw the creature grin lecherously, and bolted. It was much safer
that way, he reasoned. The sudden jerking movement dislodged the tiny being
from his head, and he sprinted away from it. Taking half a step, however, Mousse
realized the fatal flaw of his technique. Namely, that it left his back unguarded.
His hands shot to his backside again, but due to the momentum of his body, the
motion caused the boy to tumble down to the ground. His glasses slid down from
his forehead, landing on his eyes, as he lay on the ground, his eyes closed
reflexively. Opening them, he looked straight into a familiar wrinkled face.

"Happosai!" Mousse exclaimed in surprise and relief. Mostly relief,
which spoke volumes since his surprise at finding the ancient lecher had been
great.

The wizened Anything Goes master took a puff from his pipe, and smiled at Mousse.
"Now, m'boy, what you say if I return the favor and offer to train
you to finally defeat Shampoo?" He nodded to himself with appreciation.
"Much promise in you, I see."

Suppressing the shudder that came naturally with gazing upon such a smile,
especially in close quarters, Mousse nodded. He also promptly hit his chin against
the sidewalk, since it had been really stupid to try and nod while lying prone
on the ground.

This was clearly not her day, Shampoo thought with a mix of sadness,
annoyance and anger, as she kept on sneezing more and more, on her way
to do the Nekohanten's daily shopping for ingredients. The sneezing fit
in and out of itself was not that bad, as a True Amazon warrior could
handle something so simple. True Amazon warriors… endured.

However, Shampoo noticed in fright that with each sneeze her cranial functions
seemed to regress, which would slowly but surely leave her a hollow husk of
her past self. Already, Shampoo began to address Shampoo in third person. Shampoo's
speech patterns had always been typical of Chinese immigrants who were too lazy
to learn the proper accent, so that shouldn't have come as a big surprise.

Nevertheless, it had, because Shampoo had a habit of thinking in Chinese.
Therefore, as Shampoo began to think of self in third person, something felt
amiss.

Loud sobbing diverted Shampoo's attention from Shampoo's problems, and
Shampoo listened in to what Shampoo believed to be one policewoman consoling
another. Shampoo prided Shampoo on realizing the two were partners, though Shampoo
couldn't help but detect subtle lesbian undertones.

Mentally smacking Shampoo for being naughty, Shampoo tried to make sense
of their conversation. An 'Assault with a deadly Mousse'? And followed by an
attack with a 'Mr. Happy'? Sounded dangerous, and too, too perverted. Must be
a Japanese thing, Shampoo think.

Shampoo suddenly to be feeling che— chil— cold, almost if someone walk
over Shampoo gra— grub— hole in ground where Shampoo lay when drop dead…

"What are you doing, Akane?" Ranma asked, unable to hold his
surprise in. "What's with the fire?"

The fire in question would have been difficult to miss, to say the least.
In other words, one had no more of a chance to miss it than to overlook a gigantic
hole in the middle of one's backyard ten meters in diameter. In fact, that pretty
much explained the fire.

"Isn't it obvious?" the youngest Tendo daughter asked, a similar,
yet milder, expression of surprise appearing on her face. "I'm going to
learn the Kachu Tenshin Amaguriken, so I needed to light one of course."
Looking mildly embarrassed, she continued, "For some reason, the wood refused
to burn, so I decided to get some help and brought some gasoline, but that stupid
old canister burst and kind of spilled all over the place—" Akane gestured
at the hole in the ground. "—and then, there must have been some previously-undiscovered
natural gas pocket right beneath the surface, so when I lit it with a match—"

"Akane!" Ranma exclaimed, rushing over to his fiancée and beginning
to expect her body for burns, taking extra care to check everywhere. "Are
you okay?!"

Planting an elbow on the back of his head when he got too frisky, she frowned
at him. "Of course I am. Why shouldn't I be?"

Shaking his head to clear the spots dancing in his vision, Ranma silently
pointed at the ten-meter-high blue flame they were standing next to.

"Oh, that?" Akane waved her hand in a dismissive manner. "Me,
get hurt from that little fire?" She giggled. "Kasumi's stove burns
stronger than that!"

Ranma was suddenly afraid. Very afraid. And happy, oh so very happy, that
he had never been alone with Akane in the kitchen when she cooked. "Wait,
did you just say Kachu Tenshin Amaguriken?" he asked, suddenly realizing
Akane's earlier words.

She nodded happily. "When do I start?"

He gave Akane a long look and replied, "How about never?" and
immediately found her fist in his face.

"What was that?" Akane asked in a dangerous tone of voice, removing
her hand.

The red imprint of her knuckles on his face faded away into nothing as
he gave her another look, seemingly unfazed from the head blow. "Think
about it. Who are you trying to defeat?"

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere." Ranma nodded to himself
in satisfaction. "And what is the Kachu Tenshin Amaguriken?"

Akane blinked in surprise. "That really neat punching thing where
you can hit Cologne but not quite."

Ranma coughed. "Well, I guess you could call it that. But who taught
me that?"

"Cologne."

"And what is she?" Ranma asked excitedly, seeing they were finally
getting somewhere.

"The Amazon elder, and Shampoo's great-grandmother."

"Right!" the pigtailed boy exclaimed. "Now do you see?"

Akane smacked her right fist down into the open palm of her other hand.
"I get it!" She smiled at Ranma happily, her eyes shining. "You
think I'm so advanced that I need to learn the Hiryu Shoten Ha!"

Ranma's face twisted into a grimace, which some of the people he knew might
mistake for a smile. That list of people consisted of Mousse, Kasumi and his
old man. Ranma was pretty sure the last two just didn't care either way.

Luck was on his side, however, and Akane bought it. "When do we start,
then?"

Trying to divert her attention, he asked, "Shouldn't we put out that
fire, first?" He gestured at the raging blue flame, which showed no sign
of stopping. In fact, he could have sworn it seemed to slowly expand.

Akane shrugged. "I don't think we can. Not without cooking something
on it first. The Gods of the Blue Flame won't be appeased otherwise." Looking
straight into Ranma's eyes, she added, with much conviction, "I know."

Ranma believed her. He became afraid again.

Getting away from the fire, which seemed to snarl angrily at him whenever
he looked at it, Ranma took Akane to the dojo. Looking at the entrance cautiously,
in an attempt to see if anyone was watching them, Ranma adopted a form Akane
had seen his father take several times during his stay with her family.

She was awed. Ranma looked smart.

Playing along, she plopped on the dojo floor in front of him. "Is
this a part of the Hiryu Shoten Ha training?" she asked eagerly.

Ranma shook his head slowly. "No, student." Raising a hand
to forestall any questions she might have, he continued, "What I
am about to impart on you is a higher Art. Only two people in the entire
world know its innermost secrets, though many tremble in its wake. Even
Ryoga, with the god mark that made him invincible, fell pray to those
techniques. And now…." Ranma paused for dramatic effect. "Now,
you shall join the ranks of the prestigious school of the Saotome Desperation
Techniques!"

Akane was properly awed… for all of five seconds, before she kicked Ranma
through the ceiling, yelling angrily after his rapidly disappearing form, "That
will teach you to stop picking on poor Ryoga!"

Shampoo walked into the Nekohanten, calling out, "Great-grandmother,
I back from delivery!" Sneezing caused her to sigh, and she trudged to
the kitchen, where Cologne was busy making their trademark dish — ramen. "Great-grandmother,
Shampoo think she sick."

"I'm sick of working so much in a restaurant as well, Shampoo, but
that is a trade off that allows us to catch our soaps raw, instead of getting
dubbed tapes at the village." Cologne shuddered. "The Way of a True
Amazon is fraught with peril."

Shampoo barely caught all that amidst the pounding in her head. "Great-grandmother…"
she said weakly, "head feels… stuffed… air smells… funny… stuck
talking… like this…."

"Ah…." Cologne nodded sagely. "Shatneritis. Sadly, there
is nothing I can do."

"NO!" Shampoo banged her head against the wall several times.
That seemed to help her focus her eyes. "Have cold, I think, but get worse…
every minute…." She banged her head against the wall some more. Pieces
of plaster started falling from the ceiling. "Solution only temporary.
Seems… to work… less time… with each use…."

Cologne stopped Shampoo from assaulting the kitchen wall a third time.
"I see, Great-granddaughter. This is grave indeed. Let us embark on a quest
to cure your ailment…." Without waiting for a reply, she opened a secret
trap door in the kitchen floor, hoisted Shampoo on her staff and started dragging
her down the long, cylindrical stairway.

"But apothecary… just down… the street…." Shampoo's voice
protested from the darkness, just before rhythmical bumps started sounding from
the opening. "Ouch… ouch… head… really… splitting… this… way…
ouch…."

"This is the True Amazon Way!" Cologne's rasping voice mixed
with her great-granddaughter's complaints, followed by the old woman's cackling….

"Halt please, fair maiden!"

Konatsu stopped, as he was ordered, looking at the approaching kendoist
expectantly. "Was there anything this unworthy one could do for you?"

Tatewaki nodded. "In search of my love, the Feisty Sexkitten Akane
Tendo, I am!" He puffed out his chest, his eyes getting a misty, almost
glazed-over look. "Seen her have you, fair woman?"

Flattered, not to mention flustered, Konatsu blushed, covering his mouth
with a decorative fan. "I have seen no kittens or socks in my path, not
to mention burning ones."

Kuno looked stumped for a moment, but then laughed. "Funny lass, you
are."

"May I inquire what you plan on doing upon finding she whom you seek?"
Konatsu wondered shyly from behind the safety of his fan.

Konatsu, in the meanwhile, had a pondering expression on his face. "So
you need to first defeat the woman you love to make her love you back?"
He blinked, as suddenly everything came into place. His stepfamily, evil as
they were, couldn't be blamed for not teaching him this. They were raising him
to be a girl, and didn't want him to get any masculine ideas. But that was then,
and now he was free of their tyranny!

"YES!" Konatsu exclaimed, throwing the fan away and draining
the bags of sand serving as his pseudo-breasts. "I finally understand!"
Ripping off the kimono he had been wearing, the kunoichi dumped it none too
gently into Tatewaki Kuno's hands, and ran off into the direction of the Ucchan's,
laughing madly all the while.

Konatsu was clad only in frilly female underwear, which was ill-suited to cover
the almost monstrous symbol of his manhood. He had always been ashamed of it,
considering it a curse… but now he truly understood! He would flaunt it!
Konatsu reached enlightenment… of the manly kind.

Left alone, Tatewaki stared dumbly at the torn feminine clothing in his
arms and the dancing man thrusting his not-quite-covered manhood at random passers-by…
and had his own enlightenment. The denials of his love, which no sane mortal
could surely reject… the strength which seemed beyond normal females… the
overly cute face and that inhumanly large pair of breasts, bigger than her peers'
by leaps and bounds….

It all made sense! None of them could be true, for no woman that perfect
existed! He was a fool to believe in goddesses gracing him with their favors…
he was a fool… he was taken for a fool!

Tatewaki Kuno would get his revenge on that cross-dresser. Oh yes.

That thought in mind, he stalked home, too angry to let go of the torn
kimono.

"Great-grandmother," the purple-haired Amazon wheezed, resting
her hand on the shelf of a nearby bookcase to keep herself upright. "Shampoo
feel better now. Really. Let Shampoo go up and go to apot— do delivery?"

Cologne's voice sounded distant and yet close by, freaking out the much
younger woman considerably. "We are on a quest, Shampoo! Pay attention,
and look for the Secret Scroll of Ancient Tribal Remedies!"

Shampoo would have replied, had she not used all of her inner reserves
to stay coherent for her earlier request. She settled for a moan, which could
have been interpreted as a grunt of consent, had the listener not paid attention
to the raw pain transmitted in it. Sighing, she pushed off the bookcase to continue
the search, only to end up dangerously tilting the entire thing. She held on
to it with both hands, managing to stop it from falling, and sighed again, this
time in relief.

That proved to be the young warrior's undoing, as Murphy's Law came and
bit her in her soft tush, causing the bookcase to fall in the other direction.

Buried under an ungodly amount of heavy, dusty books and a massive wooden
piece of furniture, Shampoo pondered many things. They all seemed to be centered
on the stupid schemes her great-grandmother had her go through, and how they
had backfired… usually painfully. Very painfully, she recalled, blacking out.
The last thing she saw was a page from the Book of Thousand and One Crazy Plans
to Get Your Great-Granddaughter Hitched That Only a Sadistic and Bored Fool
Would Try, which listed such attempts at romancing as the Full-Body Cat's Tongue,
the Hypnotic Mushrooms and the Reversal Jewel.

The next thing on the list was the Slutty Stripper with Canine Domination
Fetishism. The mental image caused from that followed Shampoo into her blunt
trauma-induced nightmares….

"Look! Behind you!" Akane yelled as she pointed to a distant
point behind Ranma, her eyes widening in horror.

The pigtailed boy turned around to see a tire smack into his forehead.
Both boy and tire dropped to the ground for the count. Ranma stood up shakily
a moment later, but the tire remained prone, causing the boy to smirk at it
arrogantly. That matter taken care of, Ranma scanned the premises, looking for
the moron who dared to do this to him.

A panda showed him a wooden sign saying 'Very sloppy, Boy!' while seeming
to scowl at him. Ranma scowled back, kicking the tire at him. It flew at great
speeds, breaking through the sign and smashing into the panda's face, knocking
him out.

"Sloppy, my ass," Ranma boasted, before turning back towards Akane
and smiling at her warmly. "That was great, Akane. Only don't forget
to practice some more, so you can do it even without the actual danger.
And that you actually capitalize on your opponent's moment of weakness.
Oh, and don't forget to properly cower — Pops used to say that was
a very important tenant of the school. In any case—"

"Filthy man-woman, thou art! Defeat thee, I shall!" Kuno yelled
angrily, suddenly appearing at the Tendo family's front gate. He ran inside
the premises and immediately slashed at Akane with his bokken from afar. The
vacuum blade released by the upperclassman's wooden sword missed its target,
however, as Akane ducked into the Crouch of the Wild Tiger, finally managing
to execute the fearsome technique for the first time.

Akane nodded, her eyes shiny from unshed tears, which have appeared from
the praise she had received.

"Hey, isn't that a ten yen coin?!" Ranma exclaimed suddenly,
staring intently at a spot on the ground just behind Akane's right leg and pointing
at it.

Akane followed Ranma's pointing hand… and found herself on her back,
seeing stars. "W-What a fearsome technique…" she whispered in awe.
"That Chinese hussy won't stand a chance!"

Ranma smiled, standing next to his fiancée. It was so nice to finally see
her interested in real martial arts!

When Shampoo regained consciousness, the first thing she was aware of was
the pounding in her head. Unlike what she had expected, it remained exactly
as she had remembered it — no better or worse. That was arguably a good thing,
since it could have worsened. But to think of the headache she had as a 'good
thing', even arguably, sounded very wrong to her.

Deciding not to think about it, Shampoo tried opening her eyes, and immediately
closed them. Thousands of thoughts shot through her cranium, all tied to the
primal fear she had felt upon trying to look. Even being blind was better to
losing her mind, for the dungeon's interior was definitely not neon pink
before she was knocked out by the bookshelf.

Shampoo idly wondered whether, according to Amazon law, she was now married
to a moldy bookshelf. A moment later, she took that as further proof that she
was losing her mind.

Finally, the purple-haired girl decided to chance cracking her eyes open
once more. After all, the craziness was haunting her even in the darkness, so
she might as well stop holding back.

Bright purple greeted her, and the young Amazon wasn't sure which color
she was happier with. Taking a moment to think this over, she reasoned that
her eyes probably hadn't had time to readjust to being used again earlier, which
caused the neon pink madness. That was good. Purple she could deal with, even
if it wasn't the beautiful and gentle purple of her hair, but the ghastly purple
of that evil being they sometimes showed on the television to scare little children
into obeying their parents.

But what could have caused that? And where was her great-grandmother, come
to think of it? After a quick glance around, which revealed the knocked over
Rack of Quickie Lust&Love Spices, its contents mixed and spilled all over
the place, Shampoo had her answer to both questions.

Saying a quick Amazon prayer to her great-grandmother's Warrior Spirit,
which had to be cry— committing ritual suicide to avoid the dishonor its Earthly
shell would undoubtedly bring it, Shampoo did a little cheer for being free
of her sadist trainer-slash-nanny. Good riddance, said her newly-reached enlightenment,
helped along greatly by the heavy bookshelf she was now engaged to. Unless it
was one of the books that delivered the finishing blow, of course.

Not that it mattered, anyway, for Shampoo now understood! She was
an Amazon no more! No… she would not follow those moronic, rigid laws, and
start a new life by trying to find a discipline that would allow her to practice
martial arts to her heart's content, without any pointless limitations or laws.
And great-grandmother should find someone else for the Slutty Stripper with
Canine Domination Fetishism thing, Shampoo mentally added, shuddering….

"Shan Pu, I would challenge with you!" Akane proclaimed proudly.
A moment later, she shook her head, muttering dark things about one Tatewaki
Kuno.

"It's a formal challenge, Shampoo," Ranma translated ever-helpfully.

The purple-haired girl turned towards them, looking like she had been through
hell and back. Recently.

Ranma was about to interject, when the mental image of Akane claiming Shampoo's
lovely behind for herself caught up with his brain, causing it to crash.

Emboldened by his silence, Akane pointed beyond Shampoo's right shoulder
and cried out in shock, "Look, it's a bird!" Not seeing any reaction,
she tried again. "It's a plane! A plane! Watch out!" Sweat poured
down her brow from having to sustain such a taxing technique for an extended
period of time. "It's Superman?" she asked weakly, trembles going
through her pointing arm.

Shampoo blinked, and Akane took it as a sign of weakness, launching herself
forward, swift and deadly, trying to kick her opponent between her legs while
her mind was otherwise occupied.

Her charge was interrupted by a book, which fell out of Shampoo's bosom
and landed on the raven-haired girl's knee with surprising force. Akane cried
out, more in shock than from any actual pain, and hopped back away from the
other girl. She gave Ranma a questioning look, but he shook his head firmly,
yelling to her in encouragement, "It was only a fluke! Try again!"

So she tried. "Hey, your panties are showing!" Akane yelled in
warning, but to no avail. Reasoning with no small amount of anger that the hussy
exhibitionist probably didn't wear any, she conceded defeat on that front.

"Don't give up! Just keep on trying!" Ranma encouraged the disheartened
girl, wondering why Shampoo hadn't glomped onto him or as much as greeted him
yet.

"Oh my God!" Akane exclaimed, wide-eyes, her hands grabbing both
sides of her head in horror. "The Nekohanten is on fire, and your great-grandmother
is trapped inside!"

This technique did cause a response, but not the kind Akane was expecting.
She decided not to attack, a bit unnerved by the grin that suddenly seemed to
split Shampoo's face.

Kuno staggered from across the corner, using a crutch. His left leg and
right arm were in a cast, but that barely seemed to slow him down. "There,
are you!" he yelled, pointing his crutch at Akane. "Cut your manhood
off, I shall!"

Ranma sighed in exasperation, and blasted the kendoist away with his ki
blast again. Akane seemed slightly peeved that she didn't get a chance to beat
Kuno into a fine paste.

Reenergized from such a show of support from him, Akane adopted a very
intricate stance. Said stance, which was very difficult to get right, involved
the practitioner to turn away from the opponent and bend over, mooning them.
Fooled into a false sense of security, the opponent was bound to get closer,
when the cunning martial artist would stimulate the sound of breaking wind,
stunning the rival briefly. Then, of course, the fight was won.

It was an awesome technique, devised by the most ingenious martial artist
of his generation, Genma Saotome. In all of the four times it had been used
against stronger than God opponents, it had tipped over the scale and gave him
an easy victory. It was, in fact, a sister technique to the Crouch of the Wild
Tiger, which explained the effectiveness of the two.

Akane was prepared to kick Shampoo around like a beach ball, maybe even
bruising her ribs slightly for revenge. Akane was prepared to land the finishing
blow and walk away the winner right that minute. Akane was prepared to hurt
Shampoo for all the times the other girl had laughed at her expense….

Akane was not prepared to be kicked squarely between her legs from behind,
Shampoo's toe slightly brushing against her lower stomach before her right foot
withdrew the same way it came.

"My God, it hurts," Akane whimpered, landing on the ground after
being flung up by the kick. "I don't have anything there, at least I don't
think I do, and Kasumi checks quite thoroughly every morning in the furo so
she would have told me. Why, God… why?" The rest of Akane's complaints
disappeared into incoherent, self-pitying mumbling.

"Shampoo go now," the purple-haired girl announced, speaking
for the first time since meeting Ranma and Akane just outside the Nekohanten.
"Ranma go marry Weakling Girl — want Shampoo's hand, defeat Bookshelf
first." And with those parting words, she limped into the sunset, favoring
her right leg.

Shaken in every possible manner was a good way to describe Ranma's mental
state. His most fundamental beliefs had been challenged, and had not withstood
the test of real life.

His old man had been wrong all along!

The thought kept on bugging Ranma, refusing to go away. After all, if the
core of Genma's ideology had been wrong all along, then all that had been built
on those tenets of fallacy and self-deceit had been nothing but a house of cards!

Ranma scowled, recalling all the times the fat fool had sold him to all
those girls, and how everyone either wanting him dead or just wanting him was
the bald bastard's fault.

It all made sense now! He had been a fool, for he had been raised by a
fool on a fool's dogma.

No more!

He was getting sick and tired of being abused by his so-called fiancée,
who was really just a violent, immature brat who always got everything she wanted
and treated him as nothing more than a prize. And her sneaky sister, that ice
queen-slash-yakuza wannabe, a real money-grabbing bitch who just liked to torture
him for her sick erotic pleasures… she had hurt him the most, in her subtle
and not-so-subtle schemes. And his so-called friend Ryoga, who abused that friendship
and tarnished the last remnants of his honor by his depraved actions — everything
was his own fault! All the rivals… all the bystanders, who were never on his
side, only trying for a free peep, for a quick glomp….

They were all against him, abusing him with their verbal, psychological
and physical violence… and he had let it slide.

No more! They had no idea that now they were dealing with a new
Ranma Saotome.

He smirked evilly, and took out a pair of scissors using the Hidden Weapons
technique he had learned from Mousse long ago but never bothered to use before
despite the inherent usefulness in it. A simple snip later, and he was the 'pigtailed
boy' no more, cutting his hair as a symbolic act to relinquish all ties with
his past. He was also a Saotome no more, since by merely changing his last name,
he had managed to fool all of the personal debts and marriage agreements that
had been made in his name before. Hah! He had shown that Chardin guy good!

And now, it was time for him to leave Nerima, for nothing really worthy
remained for him there. He would go on a journey of self-discovery, to try and
rediscover the meaning of life; one he could live with, and which was preferably
the complete opposite of that lousy martial artist, Genma.

And when it came to him, he would practice martial arts again… not the
Anything Goes School but his own reinvented offshoot of it, that would be more
powerful and generally better than the original in any way, shape and form.
Suck on that, Happy!

Ranma left for a random direction, making sure to ground his heel in the
twitching form of the uncute psycho bitch tomboy who had been his fiancée for
so long.

"I challenge you!"

In retrospect, it was probably best for Akane to lay still and play dead,
rather than stir upon hearing the above battlecry.

"Hotcha!"

Akane screamed, and swung at the lecher firmly attached to her chest. "Mousse,
you pervert!" she yelled simultaneously, unable to express her rage at
being fondled more articulately.

"Hubba-hubba!" the myopic Amazon cooed, using the force of the
attack to slide down her body, halting his advance by holding on to her behind.

Kuno drove by the two in a motorized wheelchair, covering his eyes with
the cast on his right arm and yelling at the top of his lungs. "Sweet baby
Jesus is mine! Gay, he was all along! Gay, tells you I! See it clearer than
ever, now I do!" He drove off, sobbing into his cast. "Leave him be,
I shall. Perverse pleasure continue giving him, I must not. Join a Christian
monastery, the only option, it seems…."

Akane let off a wordless shout of outrage, and attempted to hit Mousse
with renewed vigor, but her efforts were to no avail. Mousse would always use
the momentum of her blows to slide elsewhere on her body… and 'elsewhere'
was always a private area. On the verge of despair, Akane recalled a powerful
set of techniques and yelled at the top of her lungs, "Oh no, my boobs
are falling off!"

Mousse blinked, and raised his head to take a look. That proved to be his
downfall, as that gave Akane enough leverage to hit him from an angle that detached
him from her, and smacked him into the pavement, from which he bounced — shaken,
but not stirred.

"I see you have been training as well, my beloved," he said,
his voice dripping with open adoration.

Cranking his neck to get the kinks out of it, he settled into a stance
Akane instantly recognized, to her horror. It only confirmed what she had already
suspected, but the shock of being constantly glomped and fondled prevented her
from verifying. The mere thought of Mousse mastering those techniques scared
the panties off of her, since being blind and fairly dumb, Mousse didn't go
for visual distractions. That made him a most worthy opponent….

There was just one way to truly defeat him, and that was by using the only
set of techniques that allowed her to score a hit against him. Akane nodded
gravely, steeling herself for the match of her life….

Ranma walked straight, not looking at the people he was passing by. They
were just peons, wearing the chains of capitalism, imperialism and all the other
evil 'ism's.

Ignoring a prostrate bloody pulp wearing female lingerie and nothing else
would have been quite a feat, however, especially since it insistently appeared
in front of him no matter how hard Ranma tried to avoid him.

"All right, Konatsu, what do you want?" he asked finally, sighing
in defeat. Oh well, he might as well say goodbye to the kunoichi, as they would
never see each other again.

"You mean Ukyo kicking you out for beating her up with your much better
martial arts skills, and then having all the girls who normally chase Happosai
beat on you because they are short a pervert to abuse?" Ranma asked calmly,
observing his nails with exaggerated care. "Not a smart move, you know,
taking Kuno's advice."

"H-How?!" Konatsu exclaimed in shock.

"Got an enlightenment. Those things totally rock, no da." Ranma
smirked. "Made me a hell of a lot smarter, prophetic even, and healed all
the brain damage that stupid fat panda gave me over the past decade. I even
got healed from all the abuse that violent, uncute tomboy and the rest of the
people who hate my guts in Nerima did to me." The raven-haired boy scratched
the back of his head in confusion. "Didn't even know I had brain
damage, so badly off I was."

The underclothed ninja gaped at him.

"Oh well, best be off. Wouldn't want to miss my scheduled meeting
with my destined Significant Other, you know?" With a casual wave, Ranma
took to the rooftops for no good reason but to show off, leaving the speechless
Konatsu in the dust.

"Oh my God! I have seen True Evil!"

These cries and others in a similar vein were common that day in Nerima.
They were also understandable, as Cologne with body paints the only pretense
of her clothing definitely counts high on the List of Evils. It may not be True
Evil, as some spectators have claimed, but then again, they did not have the
necessary qualification to make that distinction.

But back to Cologne on her nudie streak. Had she just ran down the street
at her famed speed, most people would just see a streak of bright purple light
and an unexplained feeling of great uneasiness. Alas, but that was not to be.

Cologne, covered head to toe in bright purple and nothing else, zigzagged
on the street, glomping onto the male passers-by and molesting them as she barked
in their ears occasionally. She even kept trophies. And, to properly enjoy the
chase, she did it slowly enough to allow the common people a chance to appreciate
her actions.

Happosai should have been proud, some would say. After all, was Cologne
not acting like a female, mirror reflection of him? As it turned out, those
people who would claim that were mistaken.

Happosai did not enjoy being molested by someone even quicker than him,
though he might have been stunned by Cologne's awe-inspiring body as she flashed
him before groping him like a professional. Which she could have been, for all
we know — she did learn from the best.

On the other hand, calling Cologne a professional streaker might have been
a bit premature. For one, she did not have the obligatory trench coat needed
for such activities. And secondly, instead of giving chase, as Happosai's female
victims had done every time he had gone on one of his 'training trips' in increase
his collection, Cologne's victims seemed content to hurl on the sidewalk. Some
were crying. Some were just standing still as if they had been turned into stone,
their faces ghostly white; at least, that's how they were for a brief moment,
before dropping dead with heart attacks. Happosai was one of them, incidentally,
which would explain why Cologne still roams the streets of Nerima till this
very day, unstopped.

Once again, two teens walked down yet another nondescript street. And one
could say they were headed home, as home is really where the heart is, and their
heart heard the road's siren song, and became hopelessly enchanted with it.

One was searching for his lost faith in the Art, as the Art was his life,
and both had recently become very hollow and meaningless. The other was also
in search of new values, having come to an enlightenment of her own lately.

Both met at a crossroads half a mile up the road, and have traveled together
ever since. It was not a conscious decision, rather one that they had mutually
agreed upon silently. They had the same destination, and company on the long
and tiring journey there would be welcome. After all, they were both in search
of a new life… and what better way to do so but with a soul mate by your side?

And so, Shampoo and Ranma met again after Akane's duel with Shampoo. An
hour later, at an intersection, they glanced into each other's eyes briefly
to decide where to go, and fell in love at first sight. But that is a different
story, with a whole new rating….

One year later….

A bright purple streak shot downhill across the street from the Tendo Dojo,
gleeful cackling trailing behind it. The three Tendo daughters sighed in synchrony,
giving each other exasperated looks.

"At least there is one good thing about this, I suppose. The number
of perverts is dropping miraculously," Akane said with a shrug, breaking
the short silence between the three.

"Not that I'm afraid of perverts!" the youngest Tendo immediately
protested most vehemently. "I know how to handle them."

Nabiki smirked. "I bet you do, Akane. How did you defeat Mousse, again?"

Akane's earlier look of exasperation returned. "Jeez, Nabiki, normally
your memory is better. If I hadn't known you better, and wasn't the prude that
I am, I'd have thought you were getting off on it."

"All right. I guess one more time won't hurt. So there we were, in
a deadlock. None of the Desperation Techniques were working — they were barely
allowing me to keep up. And then, I recalled Ranma-sensei's words… 'If you
are ever forced into a corner and you've exhausted all of your options… there
is a fearsome technique you can try. You will have only one chance to execute
it, since it needs to be done just right. Don't forget, student, that the Hell's
Cradle is not a Forbidden Technique for nothing!'

"And the rest is, as they say, history." Akane smiled. "I
nailed him, and I nailed him good."

"I'm not sure what you mean," Akane replied in genuine confusion.
"I just hugged him really, really close to me," she explained,
pointing at the valley between her breasts, "and waited for him to give,
like Ranma-sensei said any opponent would."

A gasp escaped Nabiki, who was fighting a full-body blush at this point.
Not paying it any attention, Akane concluded her story, "He stopped struggling
after five minutes, but I held him for ten more, just in case."

Nabiki started drooling. The ever-present Kasumi glided over to her and
wiped it clean, accidentally brushing her breasts against her sister's back.
Nabiki's eyes crossed, and she let out a sigh, dropping onto the floor.

Kasumi went to get a mop.

"Do I miss Ranma?" Akane asked herself out loud for no apparent
reason. "I guess I do, in a way. As a martial arts teacher, he was the
best I've ever had. But as a fellow martial artist, I understand the need for
his never-ending quest to better himself in the Art. As a fiancé, however…."
The tips of Akane's mouth twitched, forming a smile. "I think I'll manage,
somehow, with my loving sisters by my side…."

The End—

—or is it? The Blue Flame still burns, brighter than ever….

Author's notes: I fully blame Ginrai and the people in #void for this… but
mostly Ginrai. For mocking Masters of Jurai, pretty much. Yeah, that sounds
right.